


164cm

by owlinaminor



Series: author's favorites [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Manga Spoilers, kind-of a character study if you squint, miyagi training camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsotomu remembers that once, in history class, he learned about this ship called the Titanic.  It was supposed to be perfect – the pinnacle of modern design and engineering – unsinkable.  And then, crossing the Atlantic, it hit an iceberg.  Hundreds of casualties.  Everything scientists thought they knew about building the unsinkable ship was wrong.</p><p>Tsutomu watches Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm – and thinks that he’s never seen a more terrifying iceberg in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	164cm

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be called "titanic", but then [becky](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) pointed out that if i did that, people might think this was some kind of weird au with goshiki as rose and hinata as jack or something. definitely dodged a bullet there. (and, y'know, she helped beta in other ways, too.)
> 
> [this panel](https://gyazo.com/287db552efd7d0d738e9b6a03c8abfb0) is very relevant.
> 
> and, in case you missed the tag: SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTERS 208 AND 209.

He shouldn’t be here.

He’s tiny, a vibrating ball of energy bright orange as a planet seen from far away.  He’s shouting and jumping and spiking and yelling and refusing to sit still for even a moment for fear he doesn’t remember how to get up again.  And he’s _loud_ , so loud that he echoes through the gym when he announces himself, loud enough that he echoes in Tsutomu’s mind later, playing on repeat like a broken record.

_I’m Hinata Shouyou, first-year from Karasuno High School!  164cm!  I’ll be the ball boy!  Pleased to make your acquaintance!_

He’s bright orange as a planet seen from far away, and Tsutomu wishes he were far away.  Tsutomu wishes he were anywhere but _here_.  Here, with his loud shouting and his blazing eyes and his bright smile.  Here in Tsutomu’s orbit.

It’s funny, how he appeared – sprinted into the gym like he belongs here, or like he knows he doesn’t quite but would do anything to stay anyway – and Tsutomu felt goosebumps rise on his arms even though he’s never cold in the gym.  He appeared, and Tsutomu felt like he was back in that stadium, watching this little redheaded runt slam down the spike that beat an unbeatable team.

He appeared, and Tsutomu felt ready for a fight.

He says he’s the ball boy, but Tsutomu knows he won’t stay there for long.  Tsutomu has seen him in a game – leaping almost a meter in the air, soaring above the net, concentrating on the ball as though it’s the last in the world – and he sees him now – catching balls faster than anyone else, moving across the court before a spike lands, concentrating on the game as though this is his last chance to watch volleyball.  

He’s seen Hinata – Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm – before, and he watches him now.  Tsutomu watches him even when he should be watching the ball, watching the coach, watching his opponents.  He watches the mess of bright orange hair, the shine of blazing brown eyes, the stretch of legs that should by all rights be too short to fit here but help him tower above all the others regardless.  Washijou-sensei says this kid has no talent, no strength, no value without his setter, but Tsutomu looks at him and sees raw determination.  Raw willpower.  Tsutomu sees how he dives after every ball, and almost understands how Shiratorizawa lost to Karasuno.

Tsotomu remembers that once, in history class, he learned about this ship called the Titanic.  It was supposed to be perfect – the pinnacle of modern design and engineering – unsinkable.  And then, crossing the Atlantic, it hit an iceberg.  Hundreds of casualties.  Everything scientists thought they knew about building the unsinkable ship was wrong.

Tsutomu watches Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm – and thinks that he’s never seen a more terrifying iceberg in his life. 

* * *

“Did you know he used to close his eyes when he hits that quick?” Kindaichi – Kindaichi Yuutarou, Aoba Johsai High School first-year, 190cm – asks.

“What?  No way.”  Tsutomu leans in.  “Why?”

“He completely trusted Kageyama, or something,” Kindaichi replies.  “Kid’s an idiot.”

“A loyal idiot,” Kunimi – Kunimi Akira, Aoba Johsai High School first-year, 183cm – adds.  He doesn’t look up from his phone.

All the first-years are gathered in a spare classroom at Shiratorizawa, tatami mats dropped together in between tables and markers and old assignments.  Tsutomu could’ve gone home for the night, but he asked to stay.  The chairs, stacked on top of desks and pushed to one side, cast strange shadows on the floor, as though ghosts of long-dead student are listening in on the conversation.  Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, just left for the bathroom.

Tsutomu could’ve gone home for the night, but he asked to stay.

“But now, he has his eyes open,” he says.  “When we played, I saw him.  Why does he do that?  What changed?”

Kindaichi shrugs.  Kunimi makes a noncommittal noise.

“Yeah, what changed?” Koganegawa – Koganegawa Kanji, Date Tech High School first-year, 193cm – echoes.

All heads turn towards Tsukishima – Tsukishima Kei, Karasuno High School first-year, 193cm.

Tsukishima looks at them slowly, pulls off his headphones slowly, allows their attention like a kid agreeing to try a piece of broccoli only because he’s been promised dessert later.

“He wanted to be able to fight on his own,” he says.  “He and Kageyama worked out this new quick where the ball stops right at the highest point of Hinata’s jump.  Gives him an extra second to maneuver around the block or whatever.”

He puts his headphones back on.

But Tsutomu has _questions_ – “How did he learn to do that?” and, “How much did he have to practice?” and, “Whose idea was it?” and, “What’s so special about Kageyama anyway?” and –

And the door slides open, and in steps Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm.  Grinning as though he just had an hour-long bath, not a five-minute shower.  Grinning so bright, Tsutomu almost has to look away.

“Hey, guys!” he says.  “What’re we talking about?”

“Pokemon,” Tsutomu answers, much too quickly.

Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, sits down and asks what everyone thinks of the newest 3DS game, and Tsutomu feels the floor start to tilt beneath him.

* * *

He doesn’t stay a ball boy for long.

Of course he doesn’t – Tsutomu knew he wouldn’t – Tsutomu watches him leap for the ball and dive for the ball and live for the ball and when he receives one of Koganegawa’s serves that everyone thought was going out – Tsutomu is surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm joins the training camp as a member.  He puts on a jersey and crashes into the team opposite Tsutomu’s.  Faces Tsutomu across the net with a grin like he belongs there.  Like he belongs there - of course he belongs there.

He jumps higher than Tsutomu remembers, spikes harder than Tsutomu remembers, yells louder than Tsutomu remembers.  It’s as though he’s an exponential equation or a wave building to its peak, always stronger and better and _more_ – so much more that Tsutomu would say he must be some kind of superhero if he wasn’t Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm.

He’s like a planet seen from far away, except the planet is on a collision course.  He’s like an iceberg, except the iceberg is twice as tremendous underwater as above the surface.  He’s like a boy, except this boy is blazing blazing brighter than anyone else Tsutomu has ever seen.

And Tsutomu watches him.  He makes impossible kills and dives for impossible spikes, passes the ball with his foot and receives the ball with his face.  Even after they’ve been practicing for hours, he still leaps into the air so high, it almost looks like he’s grown wings.  He yells loud enough that the whole gym can hear him after he loses a point, sprints ahead of the pack during warm-ups, stares at the blockers opposite him as though he wants to bite their heads off.  But he also eats enormous portions at lunch, hums as he jogs to the bathroom, wakes up sprawled half-off his tatami - like he’s a little kid on vacation for the first time, not a player so terrifying all the other first-years are watching his every move.  And he sweeps the gym floor twice, just in case.  Tsutomu notices this, especially.  He doesn’t know why.

Tsutomu watches him high-five Koganegawa after a successful quick like they’re friends, and nearly squeezes his water bottle to a plastic pulp.  Tells himself that it’s only because he knows people from different teams shouldn’t be friends.

Tells himself it doesn’t matter – as though he can’t feel water pooling at his feet.

* * *

Tsutomu asks Tsukishima questions.

Asks him what town Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, is from, how much he practices, what he eats for lunch, how good he is at Japanese literature, where he learned to burn so bright that everyone turns their heads to look, like a comet blazing to earth from hundreds of light-years away.

Tsukishima says he doesn’t know.  Tsukishima says he’s busy.  Tsukishima says he’s trying to sleep.  Tsukishima says he wants to enjoy his dinner in peace.  Tsukishima says good god, if you want to know so bad, why don’t you ask him yourself?

And so Tsutomu corners him after practice – finds him toweling off his face just as they’re supposed to start their before-dinner break – marches up with hands clenched, heart racing.

Forgets the million questions in his head and shouts –

“Do you want to practice with me?”

Strange, how that echoed – the gym doesn’t usually make voices echo like that.  Unless –

Unless.

Tsutomu realizes Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, is staring back at him.  Equally determined, a blazing hot supernova.

They nod in unison, and Tsutomu thinks his hull is cracking.

* * *

Practicing with Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm is almost like practicing with himself.

He jumps high for every spike like Tsutomu, and dives for every receive like Tsutomu, and gets up fighting after he makes a mistake like Tsutomu.  They take turns receiving each other’s serves until their legs feel like falling off, then rest for a few minutes, then start all over again.  They fill the gym with the harsh slaps of volleyball on wood, the squeaks of their sneakers, the heaviness of their breaths.

It’s almost strange, how familiar practicing like this feels – like stepping into a city you’ve never heard of and discovering it feels like home, or following the trail of a burning comet and finding that the crater it landed in is emblazoned with your name.

And then, as he thumps down after receiving one of Tsutomu's particularly energetic jump serves, Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, asks, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple,” Tsutomu answers.  He faces the blazing eyes on the other side of the net – stops to breathe but doesn’t stop to ask the question’s purpose.  “What’s yours?”

“Gold.”  Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm, tosses the ball back to Tsutomu so that he can start again.  “Favorite food?”

“Boiled flounder.”

The questions continue until dinner, until Tsutomu’s learned more facts about Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm than he could write in five pages of a composition notebook.  He likes pork buns, and he has a little sister, and he isn’t good at English, and he wants to learn how to catch a ball one-handed, and he has to bike through the mountains for half an hour every morning to get to school, and he wasn’t on a real volleyball team until this year.

And the next morning, when they have a free hour between breakfast and practice, Tsutomu goes into the gym to find him already there, waiting.  All the lifeboats have gone - that is, if he had any to begin with.

* * *

On the last afternoon of the training camp, Tsutomu finds him alone – he finds Tsutomu alone – the gods of volleyball place them alone – in a storage closet just off the gym.

It’s a cramped closet, filled with mops and deflated balls and boxes of old jerseys and a hundred other things Tsutomu has never bothered to look at too closely before.  Washijou-sensei told the ball boys, even former ball boys, to grab brooms and make themselves useful, and Tsutomu went looking for.  Something.  He can’t remember.

They rearrange boxes and sweep aside dust in silence.  It’s the loudest silence Tsutomu has ever heard.  There’s a roaring in his ears, as though the ocean is rising up around him, trying to swallow him whole.

Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno High School first-year, 164cm drops a broom.  Tsutomu goes to pick it up.  And finds himself – cornered – cornering – cornered – between a wall and Hinata Shouyou.

He’s shorter than Tsutomu imagined.  Shorter than Tsutomu by almost 20cm.  He’s 164cm of taunt muscle and blazing eyes and clasped fists, 164cm of reaching for the ball and reaching for the win and reaching for the right to stand on the court.  He’s 164cm of reaching.  And it’s funny – Tsutomu imagined him taller, but this shortness, this 164cm, is more intimidating, more frightening, more.

More.

Tsutomu looks at Hinata Shouyou.  At his 164cm and his blazing eyes and his reaching.

“I’m going to beat you,” he says.

And Hinata Shouyou raises himself up on his tiptoes, rests his fingers on Tsutomu’s hips, and kisses Tsutomu – fierce, blazing, determined.

“No, you’re not.”

He turns on his heel and storms out.  The door slams closed behind him.  Tsutomu has the oddest sensation of falling.  As though the floor is cracking beneath him, and his only option is to leap.

The ocean is freezing cold around him, but he’s never felt more alive.

**Author's Note:**

> watch this all be proved entirely wrong when the next chapter comes out
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor) / [tumblr](http://owlinaminor.tumblr.com/)


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